


the milk of human kindness

by visiblemarket



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Grocery Shopping, M/M, gross flirting, rated over g purely because of john's potty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiblemarket/pseuds/visiblemarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Behave yourself, maybe I’ll get you a toy when we’re done.”</i>
</p><p>(John & Chas go grocery shopping)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the milk of human kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyHedoniste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHedoniste/gifts).



> A bajillion thanks to [trippypeas](http://trippypeas.tumblr.com/), who doesn't watch _Constantine_ , but is from Georgia and fielded all of my questions about various grocery stores, their general vibes, and the people you might find there.

"Bloody pointless, both of us bein' here for this."

"What?"

"Could've gone by myself."

Chas holds back a sigh as he turns off the engine."The last time you went by yourself you got tannis root, adder’s tongue, and catnip. And nothing else."

"Then _you_ could've gone by yourself."

Yeah, that's fair. It would've been easier on both of them, probably. There really isn't any point to bringing John along, and he's usually more trouble than he's worth when it comes to stuff like this, everyday activities that don’t involve the risk of death or the end of the world or both. But Chas could use the company and the help with the bags, and Zed's in class, so John's as good as it gets.

"You got something better to do?" John rolls his eyes but doesn't answer. “Yeah.” He opens the door to cab. "Behave yourself, maybe I’ll get you a toy when we’re done,” he says as he gets out, and hears John snort before he slams his door shut.

He goes around to the trunk to retrieve the reusable canvas bags. Hears John's door open, then shut, and eventually feels, more than sees, John sidle up beside him.

“Guess I’d better be a good boy then, hmm?” John practically purrs; Chas glances down, and John is, unsurprisingly, smirking up at him, body angled so they’re just about touching. Chas is about to open his mouth to respond when he spots a well-dressed, middle-aged, and severely-coiffed blonde woman who’s very obviously watching them from across the parking lot.

Chas shuts the trunk lid. “C’mon,” he says, and hands John the bags; John gives him a strange, suspicious look but takes them, at least until Chas grabs a cart and wheels it past the automatic doors. At that point, John bundles up the bags and unceremoniously dumps them in the front basket, then thrusts his hands into his hands in his coat pockets. 

“Well?” he says, only slightly bored, and Chas takes that as a win.

He pulls the list from his pocket and rips off about the bottom third. “Here. Go do Zed's, okay? Then meet me back by the butcher's."

John snatches the paper out of his hand. "Ooooh, sure you can trust me with such a _difficult_ task, there, mate? Wouldn't want me gettin' lost on the way to the..." he glances down at the list. "The fuck is _chicharrón_?"

"Pork rinds."

"Really?"

"Check the Ethnic foods aisle."

John _hmphs_ sarcastically and scans the rest of the list. "Nescafé?"

"Taster's Choice, here, probably."

"She shouldn't be drinkin' any of it, caffeine'll just make the headaches worse."

"Get decaf."

“I'm tellin' her that was your idea."

“Fine,” Chas says, and John flashes him a grin before walking away. “Get a basket!” Chas calls after him, knowing that he won’t, and sure enough, John doesn’t even bother looking back before making an obscene gesture over his shoulder. _Charming_ , Chas thinks, but finds himself smiling anyway. At least John didn’t see him.

He takes his time in the produce section; knows John’ll take a while, despite the relatively small amount of items on his list. It’s nice to have a break from him, honestly.

There’s a line at the butcher’s counter by the time he wheels over there, and still no sign of John, so he takes a number and pulls out his phone. He’s leaning on the cart’s handlebar and making use of the footrest while checking the news app, when a loud “Oi!” and the dull bang of someone bumping the metallic body of the cart jolts him. He straightens and watches John toss several items, most of which he knows were not on Zed’s list, into the basket.

“Coconut Dreams?"

“Oh, these are brilliant, mate. I bought ‘bout a dozen just like these off Geraldine when I was up for Christmas last year, remember?”

Chas does remember, mostly because John’d bought six boxes of said cookies with money he’d borrowed from Chas’s wallet. He lets that slide for now. “Were those on Zed’s list?"

John shrugs. “Passed them on my way to fetch the milk. Was tryin’ to kill time, yeah? Knew you’d be a while, fondlin’ the veg like you were hoping it’d return the favor and suck you off later—"

“ _John_ ,” he hisses, glancing around to see if anyone’d heard; no one had, up to and including John, apparently, who continues talking.

“—figured you didn’t really need me around for all that, so I took some initiative. Milk, eggs, bacon, that sausage you like—"

“ _You_ like,” he grumbles, and John smirks like he’s going to say something else. “And we need two percent, not whole,” he says, picking up the bottle.

John blinks. “Why?"

“It’s better for you.

“Tastes like shit."

“Well you’ve been drinking it for six weeks now, so it can’t be that bad."

John scowls at him, but grabs the milk jug and stalks off toward the dairy section anyway. Chas watches him go, more to make sure he doesn’t deviate again than anything, before leaning over again to scan the rest of the recent additions.

“My husband’s just the same.” He straightens again and glances back; it’s their friend from the parking lot, with the firm helmet of blonde hair, a muted gold cross hanging from her neck, and a tidy pink dress. She has, since then, added a nervous, but apparently sincere, smile. “Totally useless on their own. But you can’t tell them anything, right?"

“I…uh..."

“Sorry, hon, didn’t mean to startle you! Just sayin’ hey. Are y’all new in town?"

“Um—"

“Because I heard the accents."

“I uh…yeah. I’m from New York. John’s from…Liverpool."

“Oh, like the Beatles, right?"

Chas chuckles, and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I wouldn’t tell him that."

Her smile broadens, and her eyes sweep over him so quickly he almost misses it. “My my, but you _are_ a fine, tall specimen of a man, aren’t you?"

“Uh..."

She laughs. “Goodness, and the blush! Honey, you and your partner are just _darling_.”

It’s at that point, thankfully, that his number comes up, and he only barely stutters his order to the butcher in his eagerness to escape the conversation. Not that it matters, because once he’s done, the woman resumes speaking, asking him how he likes the area (“It’s different”, he manages), which leads to an itemized list of issues with the county government and the public school system, barely interrupted when the butcher returns and asks for her order.

“I mean, I’ve never been up to New York, but I’d imagine it’d be hell to raise a child there, too. You got any kids?"

“Not with John,” he says, thoughtlessly, and cringes. Her reaction is almost worth it: her smile freezes, and her face contorts as she tries to work out what the situation might be. In the end, she seems to elect to ignore the possibilities and push forward.

“I tell you, the receptionist in my office, she and her…” she hesitates, slightly, and her smile wavers. “Wife, they went and got themselves the sweetest little girl last year. Honestly, cutest little thing, these big brown eyes! Adopted, I guess? Two of you should give it some thought, you know."

“I, uh…John’s not great with kids,” he finds himself saying, as his whole skin itches with the urge to push the cart away and go look for him.

“Oh. Oh, that's too bad,” she says, very sadly, and gets a thoughtful look on her face. “I mean guess it’s different for men, right? Especially when you’re…” she lowers her voice. “… _you know_ …."

“Well I got your bloody two percent, ” John says, banging the gallon jug down into the front basket of the cart. “But I also got that spray whip cream you’re always saying's a waste of money."

“It is a waste of money,” he says, automatically, and John throws him a very strange, very tender look. Chas almost takes a step back, but before he can, John’s wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to keep him still.

“You’ve better things to do with your time than be whiskin' cream, love,” he says, and leans up as if to kiss him on the cheek. John angles his face so their audience of one gets a clean view of his body pressed against Chas's, but not of John's mouth, which he uses to murmur “Could be doin’ me instead, f'r instance,” right under Chas’s ear, instead of actually kissing him.

Chas snorts and ducks his head; he feels John grin against the side of his neck and press a kiss there for real, then drop back down on his heels.

There’s a pointed throat-clear behind them, followed by a slightly too-loud, “Aw, bless your hearts."

John pivots away from him. “And who’s this, then?"

“Ah. I’m Martha,” she says, offering a bright smile and extending her hand. "Martha Da—"

“Right. Nice to meet you, but we’re in a bit of a hurry, yeah?” John gives her a curt nod, grabs the cart out from behind Chas, and walks away with it. “See you around then, Maria!” he calls out, obviously as an afterthought, before turning down the snack aisle and out of sight.

Chas offers his best _well, what’re you going to do?_ shrug, and she receives it with a brittle, precise smile that Chas takes to mean that as a Christian woman, she will forgive, but not forget. Chas waves one last time in apology before going after John, and ultimately doesn’t feel that bad about it.

He catches up with John in the still-baffling wine aisle. He’s gazing intently at the bottles of Rosé, which Chas is sure John would rather hit himself over the head with than drink.

“What the hell was that?” Chas says, walking up to him, and John laughs loudly and turns around.

"You had this look on your face, mate, like you were...” John says, still practically giggling to himself. “Like you were thinkin’ of ways to off yourself rather than keep talkin’ to her."

“I did not."

John cocks his head and lets out a fond, if disbelieving, huff. “Right. Well. Go back an’ keep chattin’ with her, then. Maybe she’ll invite you to church, _bless her heart_."

“Hey,” he says, serious, as he maneuvers his way around John and pushes the cart forward. “Maybe she’ll invite _us_.

“Oh, _Christ_ ,” John groans, trotting after him.

“Well, you definitely need it more."

“Nah, ’s much too late for me, mate. You, though? Bet she thinks you could do better."

“I _could_ do better."

“Eh, dunno about that, mate.” He glances down, and John’s lips twitch as he tries to smother a smile. “I mean, you’re a bloody good cook, I’ll give you that. Not bad to look at either, I s’ppose. Great hands, lovely shoulders, and y'always smell all right."

“Gee. Thanks,” he says, getting on line to check out.

“Problem with you, though, 's that you're too bloody nice. Who’s got the patience for all that?"

“I can’t do better than you because I’m too nice?”

“ _Much_ too nice. You need an utter bastard like me to take care o’ you, mate, ‘else who knows what kinda trouble you’d get yourself into?” Chas snorts, and John grins before nudging him in the ribs with his elbow. “I earn myself that toy yet?"

Chas laughs and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out two quarters and hands them over. “Go pick out whatever you want,” he says, pointing at the glass toy vending machines just beyond the checkout lines. John, to his mild surprise, takes both coins without so much as a comment and wanders off.

While he waits for John to return, the checkout girl (“Amber!”, per her pistachio-green nametag) takes his cart and started wringing up their groceries; he hands her the reusable bags, and she looks at him like he may in fact be a three-headed alien. But, politely. She’s about three quarters of the way through by the time John saunters back, looking worryingly smug.

“What’d you get?”

John grins, and all of the sudden _one—two—three_ garishly pink plastic balls are flying through the air as he juggles them with an honestly impressive amount of speed and height. “Cool,” says Amber, who has thus far been assiduous but politely mute, and Chas is inclined to agree. John, looking very proud of himself, catches all three balls in one hand in quick succession, and then tucks them all into one of his coat pockets.

Amber snaps back to attention and continues ringing up.

“So?” murmurs John, leaning into Chas’s side as he keeps an eye on the total; they’re not exactly dealing with Brooklyn prices here, but it’s still going to be over a hundred dollars, probably closer to two. “What’d you think?"

“Very impressive,” he says, pulling out his wallet to make sure they have enough cash on hand. “Almost as impressive as how you got three of those for the price of one."

“Four,” says John, and presses something into his hand. Chas looks down at it: it’s a plastic figure in the shape of a dog, a golden retriever with a shiny black nose and warm brown eyes, obviously cheap but decently crafted. He looks at John, who shrugs. “Thought Geraldine might like it. Least 'til Renee lets her get a real one."

He rubs his thumb over the intricately carved fur, and then slips the figurine into his pocket. “Thanks,” he says, and smiles at him.

John almost seems surprised, for a second, then rolls his shoulders awkwardly before looking away. “Right,” he says, stepping back and nodding his head toward the massive red vending machine by the door. "Well, gonna go see what movies they’ve got this time 'round."

“Sure,” he says, watching John go. “Just...not _Demon Baby_ again, okay?"

John half-turns to wink at him, meaning it will definitely be _Demon Baby_ again, and that, since John doesn’t have a credit card of his own and has just stolen Chas’s out of his wallet, Chas will also be the one paying for the privilege of watching a surprisingly boring film about fetal possession for the third time.

“That’ll be two-hundred and three dollars, and sixty-nine cents,” says Amber, and Chas nods to himself.

“Yeah,” he says, handing over most of the bills left in his wallet. “Yeah, that seems about right.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I asked people to [tell me what to write](http://morethanonepage.tumblr.com/post/133243156156/someone-tell-me-what-to-write), because writers' block, and [ladyhedoniste](http://ladyhedoniste.tumblr.com/) said "[Write John and Chas at the grocery store.](http://morethanonepage.tumblr.com/post/133416567661/write-john-and-chas-at-the-grocery-store)" Which I've actually been dying to do since the pilot because THEY TOTALLY CANONICALLY WENT GROCERY SHOPPING TOGETHER AND WE DIDN'T GET TO SEE IT. ~~I'm not bitter, she said, bitterly.~~
> 
> 2\. "The milk of human kindness" is a phrase I've always liked but I never knew where it came from until just now, when I checked to make sure I'd gotten it right: [Macbeth](http://www.enotes.com/shakespeare-quotes/milk-human-kindness), apparently. And it actually fits this really well and I could've been content to let you all think it was intentional and that I'm like, a brilliant, thoughtful artist or something. I AM NOT. Totally a happy accident. I just thought the milk thing was funny.
> 
> 3\. Nescafé Instant Coffee is like A Thing for Mexicans(/Mexican Americans); somehow it always tastes better under the Nescafé label than Taster's Choice, even though they're functionally the same brand, so Zed's going to be more pissed about that than the decaf thing. Mexican _chicharrón_ is, as mentioned, pork rinds; in addition to snacking on it, you can gently simmer it with some green salsa and eat it as a main course. No real point to that, just felt like sharing. ~~_~follow for more fic-related recipes~_~~
> 
> 4\. [Demon Baby](http://www.redbox.com/movies/demon-baby) is an actual film actually available in Georgia RedBoxes. I checked. I was originally going to go with [The Exorcism of Molly Hartley](http://www.redbox.com/movies/exorcism-of-molly-hartley) buuut that involves a disgraced exorcist (yikes) in a mental institution (uh-oh) and also there's like bug infestations representing demonic possession, so I figured that might be a little TOO SOON for John to goof on. (Of course given that this is now the third time John & Chas are going to be watching _Demon Baby_ , I think there may be less goofing on the movie and more #RedboxAndChill-ing than anything.)
> 
> 5\. Though tbh it's meant to be ambiguous whether or not John & Chas are actually effing. I mean I'm not even sure myself, at this point. It is up to you, dear reader, to decide! 
> 
> 6\. [Coconut Dreams are the Keebler dupes of Girl Scout Samoas](http://lifehacker.com/5898791/get-your-girl-scout-cookie-fix-all-year-round-with-these-grocery-store-equivalents). They are delicious (I may or may not have bought some in the name of RESEARCH). And also, of course Geraldine Chandler is a Girl Scout. 
> 
> 7\. Again, a million thanks to [trippypeas](http://trippypeas.tumblr.com/), who doesn't even watch the show, but helped me figure out which store they might go to (not explicitly stated, but it's a Publix, which is a little more upscale and therefore pricier; it has more organic & specialty items, which I think Chas would prefer) and the general vibe they might encounter there (the direct quote being "People who go to publix are the kind of people who think they are very open minded for Georgia suburban area").


End file.
